


Merry Christmas, my love

by TwilightPony21



Category: JAG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-24 17:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightPony21/pseuds/TwilightPony21
Summary: Harm and Mac are getting married on Christmas Eve.  Twenty-five Christmas ficlets.





	1. Winter coats

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I've been working on a 25 ficlet Christmas story and decided to post it on AO3 as well. I'm starting a little early so that I'll be able to finish in time for Christmas. There will be plenty of romantic fluff and also some fictional liberties, like dress whites at a Christmas Eve wedding (mostly because this is fanfiction and I can't imagine Harm getting married in anything but dress whites). I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

“Harriet!”

Bud Roberts called out to his wife as he walked in the front door, casually swinging two garment bags in each hand.

Harriet hurried down the stairs, her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail and both of her arms occupied by two sleepy children.  “Bud, where have you been?  You were supposed to be home half an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry,” Bud apologized.  “There was a long wait at the dry cleaners.”

“Were there problems with my dress?”

“No, honey, your dress is fine.”  Bud held up one of the garment bags and partially unzipped it to offer proof to his wife.  "Pale blue with the chiffon sleeves, perfectly pressed.”

“And your dress whites?”

Bud raised the other garment bag with the opposite hand.  “Got them right here.”

He gave his wife a sheepish smile, and Harriet's heart immediately melted.  Sometimes she didn’t mean to take Bud’s sweet nature for granted.  “Oh, Bud, I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Bud said, leaning in with the expectation to meet his wife for a kiss.

But before their lips could touch, Harriet’s eyes widened and she let out a gasp.  “Well, then what are we waiting for?” she exclaimed.  “We have to leave right now if we want to get to the airport on time, and we haven't finished packing yet, and we still have to get the baby seats into the car, and I haven’t even dressed or done my hair…oh, Bud, can you take one of the twins?”

Without waiting for an answer, Harriet handed the twin in her right arm to Bud, and he clumsily fumbled both garment bags with one hand and his youngest son with the other.

Their youngest daughter was still perched on Harriet’s hip as she quickly pawed through the front closet.  “I just want to grab the twins’ winter coats in case it gets cold.”

“Honey, we’re going to southern California,” Bud protested.  “It doesn’t get that cold, even in December.”

“We’re going to San Dee-O for Christmas, we’re going to San Dee-O for Christmas.”

Bud and Harriet’s toddler son, Jimmy, sang cheerfully as he skipped down the hallway.  His oldest brother, A.J., followed at a less enthusiastic pace, dragging a large duffle bag on the floor behind him.

“It’s San  _Diego_ ,” A.J. informed him, emphasizing the syllables. “And we’re not really going to San Diego; we’re going to La Jolla, dummy.”

“A.J., don’t call your brother names,” Harriet scolded.

Fortunately, Jimmy didn’t miss a beat. “We’re going to La Jolla for Christmas, we’re going to La Jolla for Christmas,” he chirped.

Suddenly, Jimmy came to an abrupt halt next to his mother and looked up at Harriet with wide, questioning eyes.

“Mommy, why are we going to La Jolla for Christmas?”

“Well, sweetheart,” Harriet explained.  “That’s where your Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are getting married.”


	2. Stocking

“Well, ma’am, you’re all set,” Petty Officer Jennifer Coates declared proudly.  “All cases are covered from now until the new year, I've got all the administrative work under control, and your docket and your desk are completely clear."  With a grand, sweeping gesture of her hand, Jen motioned to her commanding officer’s desk.  “You don't have to worry about a thing, ma'am."

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie smiled gratefully as she closed the bottom drawer of her desk and removed some paperwork from her briefcase to leave at the office while she was away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the top of my desk before,” she said amusedly.  “Thanks for all your help, Jen.”

"It's no trouble at all, ma’am.”

“The decorations look great, too,” Mac added.

For the holiday season, Jen had taken it upon herself to adorn the offices of the Joint Legal Service Center Southwest with red, green, and silver tinsel.  She had even assigned personalized red and green stockings for everyone, except for Mac, who received a bright white stocking with  _Colonel MacKenzie_ written in glittery silver cursive.

"A white stocking?” Mac asked.

“For the bride-to-be,” Jen explained.

_Bride-to-be_.  Hearing the words said aloud made Mac’s heart flutter, and she wondered if Jen noticed the thrill that raced from her head to her toes.

“I'm really excited for your wedding, ma’am."  Jen’s eyes twinkled with excitement.  “And I can’t wait to see Mattie.  When do she and Captain Rabb get in from London?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Mac replied.  "Then we'll only have a few days to get everything ready before Christmas Eve.”

"A Christmas Eve wedding," Jen sighed dreamily.  “It sounds so romantic.  Oh, ma’am, you better leave now.  You don’t want to be late for your final dress fitting.”

“I’m on my way,” Mac said, picking up her cover and her briefcase and giving Jen a friendly nod.  “We’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, ma’am.”


	3. Snowflake

_“Whaddya say we get married tonight?”_

_Eighteen-year-old Sarah MacKenzie stared at her boyfriend, Christopher Ragle, in shock.  “Married?” she slurred.  “Like, we get hitched tonight?”_

_“Hey, baby, there’s nothing to stop us,” he whispered, laying a trail of sloppy kisses along her neck.  “Just you and me, a keg of beer, and the whole night ahead of us.”_

_Sarah laughed giddily, even as she swayed a little unsteadily from the pleasant buzz of too much alcohol.  “But Chris, I don’t have a pretty white dress.”_

_“Aww, that’s all right, baby,” he crooned softly.  “You don’t need no wedding dress.  You got a shirt and jeans, and you ain’t gonna need clothes tonight after we get married.”_

~*~o~*~

"Well, I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful bride.”

Darla had been a bridal shop owner for many years, and even she was stunned by the beauty of this particular bride.  The dress was fairly traditional, with intricate lace designs on the bodice that looked almost like snowflakes, and the dress hugged the woman’s curves in just the right way, while the satin train cascaded in soft waves behind her.

"I'm sure you say that to all the brides,” Mac commented wryly.

Darla grinned.  “Well, maybe I do, but I still think there’s something extra special about you and that dress.”  She winked at Mac as she helped place the sheer white veil over her head to complete the outfit.  “You look absolutely beautiful.  Your groom won’t be able to tear his eyes off you.”

Mac sighed happily as she studied her reflection in the mirror.  “Well, it's definitely better than what I wore for my first wedding.”

“Oh, so you’ve done this before?" Darla asked curiously.

“Once,” Mac admitted.  “But I was too young and drunk to know any better.  Then the second time, I never even made it to the altar.”

“Oh, I see.”  Darla was surprised to hear that this woman had so many unsuccessful attempts at marriage.  “So what makes the third time the charm?" she asked.

The soft sigh that escaped from Mac's lips gave her the answer.

"This guy is the one," Darla stated with a knowing smile.

"Is it that obvious?" Mac asked.

"Oh, honey, it’s always obvious when he's the one.  He’s the one who respects you and makes you smile and who makes you feel like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world every day.  And he’s the one who’s always there for you, no matter what happens.”

_You know, men just seem to pass through my life...except for you.  Will you always be there?_

_Yes._

Darla laid a friendly hand on Mac’s shoulder.  “So you’re all set with the dress, right?  Can I wrap it up for you?”


	4. Home

"Bud!  Harriet!"  Mac hurried down the stone walkway, enveloping her old friends in a warm hug.  “You made it!  A.J., Jimmy, oh, you guys have gotten so big.  And the twins—”

Mac fell silent as Harriet put a finger to her lips.  “Asleep the whole way here and still asleep,” Harriet said softly.

Mac immediately lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Welcome to La Jolla.”

"This place is absolutely gorgeous," Harriet gushed, admiring the modern, well-landscaped house and the picturesque beach behind it.  “It belongs to Harm’s parents?”

“His mother and stepfather,” Mac confirmed.

The wedding would be held on Trish and Frank’s back patio overlooking the ocean.  At first, Mac had been hesitant to accept Harm’s mother’s offer to host their wedding, but she had to admit that it was a good choice.  Harm’s family was here, their friends could easily travel here, and the mild southern California weather and the beautiful La Jolla beach in the backyard made for the perfect setting.

Trish had said that they could easily accommodate guest rooms for Bud and Harriet’s whole family, plus a couple of other guest rooms, and two rooms for Harm and Mac.

_If you really need two rooms_ , Trish had told her son and future daughter-in-law with a suggestive wink.

Mac helped Bud and Harriet bring their luggage into the front hallway, where the inside of the house was as elegant and well-kept as the outside.  It was already decorated for the season with icicle lights and holly garlands, and there was a pretty evergreen wreath on the front door. 

Mac felt her heart warm as Trish and Frank welcomed Bud and Harriet and their kids with open arms, and she realized there was always something special about coming home for the holidays.

And Harm was on his way home right now.


	5. Christmas list

****Later that evening, when Bud and Harriet took the kids to their room for a nap, and Trish and Frank were bustling about on the patio – something about moving boxes out of the way for the wedding – Mac found herself alone in the kitchen, giving her a chance to review her list of wedding preparations.

_There aren’t all that many preparations left to finish_ , she realized.

She had always wanted a small, simple wedding.  The date had been easy to choose, as Harm’s eyes had softened instantly at Mac’s suggestion of Christmas Eve to honor the memory of Harmon Rabb, Senior.  And although Harm and Bud had decided to wear their dress whites, it wouldn't be a traditional military wedding.  There would be a trellis of roses, rather than a Navy arch of swords, and Trish had arranged for an officiant and a small catered reception with their closest family and friends, most of whom were already here.

_Just missing the groom_ , Mac thought to herself.

Mac looked up from her list as the patio door swung open, and Trish entered the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Trish, let me help you with that,” Mac said, setting her list down and hurrying to relieve Trish of the heavy weight.

“Oh, thank you, Mac,” Trish said, puffing a little bit from the exertion.  “I didn’t think that would be quite so heavy.”

“Christmas presents?” Mac asked with a smile.

“Something like that," Trish replied.  She looked over at Mac with a hopeful expression.  “Mac, is there any chance you could do me a favor?  I was going to ask Harm, but he won’t be here until tomorrow, and there’s something I really need to do before the holidays.”


	6. Donation

“Thanks so much for helping out at the last minute,” Trish said to Mac as she parked the car in front of a quaint little cobblestone art gallery.  “The local community was so generous to donate all of these art supplies, and I wanted to get them here before the gallery closes for the holidays.”

As the two women carried the boxes inside, Mac admired the various forms of artwork on display – the wood and clay sculptures, the oil and watercolor paintings, and the simple pencil sketches and colorful drawings.  Trish greeted everyone they passed with a friendly hello and well wishes for the holidays.

When they reached the end of the hallway, an older man was perusing the selection of paints in the storage closet, grumbling to himself about mixing primary and secondary colors.

“Merry Christmas, Edgar,” Trish said pleasantly.

Edgar startled a little before his face dawned in recognition.  “Oh, Merry Christmas, Trish,” he said.

“Mac, this is Edgar,” Trish introduced them.  “He teaches one of our painting classes.  Edgar, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie.”

Upon hearing Mac’s military rank, Edgar scrutinized her from behind his thick glasses.  “A lady Marine and a lieutenant colonel,” he remarked in an unimpressed monotone.  “Don’t see too many of those around here.”

"She’s marrying my son on Christmas Eve," Trish informed him.

“Your son?  I thought you said your son was in the Navy.”  Edgar frowned and gave Mac a stern glare.  “Since when did jarheads start marrying squids?”

“Oh, Edgar,” a syrupy sweet voice interrupted.  "It's Christmas...don't be such a grinch."

Edgar glared at the newcomer to the conversation but snatched his batch of paints and went on his way, grumbling about how they no longer made Marines like they used to.

“Jennie!” Trish exclaimed.  “Mac, I’d like you to meet Jennie, one of our mural painters.  She’s just been commissioned to paint a mural in downtown San Diego next year.”

“Wow, congratulations,” Mac said sincerely.  “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Jennie said, tossing her long, blond hair over her shoulder.  “Now did I hear you say that Harmon Rabb, Junior, is getting married?”

Mac glanced curiously at Trish, and Trish cleared her throat, as if she knew Mac’s question before it was asked.  “Jennie…uh, used to date Harm in high school.”

Mac raised an eyebrow as Jennie laughed a little self-consciously.

“Well, we went out a couple of times, but we were really just friends.  Harm was always such a gentleman, but he was completely obsessed with flying.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s changed much,” Mac deadpanned.

Jennie laughed again and tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear.  “Well, I'm really happy for both of you," she said.  "It always seemed like Harm was looking for something in life, you know?  I'm glad he finally found someone."

Jennie gave Mac a genuine smile, and Mac couldn't help but find herself smiling back.

"So am I.”


	7. Baking

“I don’t know if this is exactly the bachelorette party you had in mind, ma’am,” Harriet said as she removed a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven.  She examined the cookies with a critical eye, making sure they were soft, moist, and golden brown, before setting them aside and sliding another tray into the oven.

“Oh, Harriet, I think that baking Christmas cookies is the perfect bachelorette party,” Mac assured her as she sprinkled powdered sugar on some sweet almond cookies that had come out of the oven earlier.  “Just you and me and a couple of really cute guys.”

She motioned to her two assistant chefs, one of whom was sitting on the floor banging a measuring cup while the other stirred a large bowl of cookie dough with a wooden spoon.

“Aunt Mac, I think it’s ready,” A.J. announced proudly.

Mac peered over the side of the bowl at the lumps of flour floating in some rather thin, milky cookie dough.  “Uh…A.J., why don’t you let me stir for a while and you can take over with the powdered sugar?” she suggested.

“Okay,” A.J. said agreeably.  He clapped his hands together, blowing a huge puff of flour into his face.  “Aunt Mac, maybe we can bake your wedding cake for you,” he said.

Mac grinned.  “Thanks for the offer, A.J., but I think we might leave the wedding cake to the professionals.”

While the others worked diligently on the cookies, Jimmy had been sitting quietly on the floor, happily waving his measuring cup.  Suddenly his eyes grew wide and his mouth formed an O in excitement as he scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the front door.

“Jimmy!” Harriet called.  Frantically, she wiped her hands on her apron and took off after her son.

“Jimmy!”


	8. Mistletoe

“Uncle Harm!”

Harm had just barely lifted Mattie out of the car and settled her into her wheelchair when little Jimmy Roberts came flying out of the house and barreling towards him.

“Oof!”  Harm let out a groan as Jimmy latched onto one of his legs, and he reached down to pick up the little boy and swing him into his arms, much to Jimmy’s delight.

“Jimmy!”  Harriet rushed out of the house in a panic, banging the front door behind her on her way to catch up to her son.  “I’m so sorry, sir,” she apologized.  “I didn’t know he could run that fast.”

Harm handed Jimmy over to his mother and leaned down to give Harriet a friendly kiss on the cheek.  “It’s okay, Harriet.  It’s good to see you.”

“Captain!”  When he had heard Harriet cry out in alarm, Bud had immediately run after her, and now he broke into a wide smile at the sight of his old friend.  He shook Harm’s hand heartily.  “Nice to see you, sir.  Glad you’re finally stateside again.  Hi, Mattie.”

Mattie smiled at everyone a little shyly.  She hadn’t seen much of them since her flying accident had put her in a coma in the hospital.  Soon after she had woken up, she and Harm had moved to London, and it had been a while since they had been back in the States.

“Hi, Mattie,” Jimmy echoed innocently, wriggling out of his mother’s arms.  “Why are you sitting in a chair?”

“I had an accident, and it’s going to be a while before I can walk again,” Mattie admitted.

“Can you still go fast in the chair?” Jimmy asked.

Mattie was more than happy to accept the challenge.  “Oh, I can still fly in this thing.  You wanna race?”

As Mattie rapidly spun the wheels and took off with Jimmy toddling after her in pursuit, Harm shook his head and let out a chuckle.

“She’s a menace in that chair,” he said.

Trish and Frank had made their way out of the house, and Harm nodded at his stepfather cordially.  “Hi, Frank.  Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, darling,” Trish greeted her son warmly, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly.  “Welcome home.”

She instantly realized that Harm’s attention wasn’t on her, and she watched his gaze scan the front of the house, knowing exactly who he was looking for.

"We might have left a Marine under the mistletoe for you, darling," she said with a sly smile.

Harm grinned back at her and made his way to the front door.

“Hello, sailor.”

Mac leaned against the doorframe, her chocolate brown eyes shining with excitement and anticipation at seeing her handsome sailor arrive home.

Harm raised an eyebrow at the little green sprig hanging above the door.  "This is my mother’s doing?” he asked.

Mac nodded, feeling heat rush to her cheeks as Harm took another step closer to her.

"Well, we'd hate to break a Christmas tradition," he murmured, cupping her cheek with his hand.

"Yeah…tradition," Mac repeated breathlessly as Harm’s lips captured hers in a soft, sweet kiss.


	9. Christmas tree

****“Uncle Harm, how about this one?”

“That one?”  Harm stared up at the massive evergreen in disbelief.  The trunk was thick and sturdy – its height completely dwarfed his six-foot-four frame – and the span of the branches and needles was nearly as wide as it was tall.  “A.J., how are we going to fit that tree through the front door?” he asked sensibly.

“It’ll fit,” A.J. said confidently.

“Only if Mom and Frank want to knock out the side of the house,” Harm said.  He ruffled A.J.’s hair affectionately.  “Try again, buddy.”

“Aunt Mac, pick me up,” Jimmy demanded, raising his hands to his godmother.  “I wanna see over the tree.”

Mac laughed as she bent down and tapped Jimmy on the nose.  “I’m not that tall, little guy.  I don’t think even your Uncle Harm is that tall.”

Luckily, Jimmy seemed undeterred as he ambled after his brother, searching for another Christmas tree in the long, neat row of evergreens.

“Harmon Rabb, Junior, is that you?”

The friendly voice belonged to a short, plump, older gentleman with white hair, a beard, and a round face.  Mac thought he looked a little bit like Santa Claus.

“Bill, how are you?”  Harm smiled and shook hands politely.  “Mac, this is Bill, the farm owner.”

“I’ve been running this Christmas tree farm as long as I can remember,” Bill said proudly.  “Known Harm’s parents almost as long, too.”  He looked pointedly at Harm.  “Although I haven’t seen you in ages, Harm.  Glad to see you brought the whole family out to find a Christmas tree.”

“Found one!” A.J. yelled from a short distance down the path.

“Only if it fits through the door, A.J.,” Harm reminded him.

“It will!  Come on, let’s chop it down!”

“All right, I’m coming.”

“You’re going to let A.J. and Jimmy chop it down?” Mac asked.  “With an axe?  Harm!”

“We’ll be careful, Marine!” Harm called over his shoulder.

Mac let out an exasperated sigh and put her hands on her hips.

Bill gave a deep, jolly laugh.  “Those are two strapping young sons you’ve got there.”

Mac looked up in surprise, but when she opened her mouth, she couldn’t make the words come out to correct him.  With her wedding only a few days away, it was something she had been thinking about a lot lately.

_You and me…have a baby together?_

_With your looks and my brains, he’ll be perfect._

_And what if she has your looks and my brains?_

_That could work, too._

And then the wave of sadness would come – the regret that she had waited too long – and reality would cruelly slap her in the face.  Although she and Harm loved their godchildren, it still hurt to accept the fact that they would never have children of their own.


	10. Hot chocolate

"I can't believe you and Harm are finally getting married.  From the moment I met both of you, I knew you were meant to be together."

From the moment she had stepped off the plane that afternoon, Chloe Madison hadn’t stopped talking.  Mac had listened to her little sister chatter excitedly all the way home from the airport, and now she was still listening as they prepared hot chocolate for their traditional Christmas slumber party.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you and Harm realized that you were in love with each other.  The two of you were the only ones who couldn't figure it out," Chloe said a little smugly.

"All right, all right," Mac surrendered with a laugh.  “I guess you were smarter than we were."

“My friends were so jealous that I got to start Christmas vacation early and go somewhere really cool like La Jolla,” Chloe continued.  “I told them, ‘hey, my big sister is finally getting married.  It’s a requirement for me to be there!’”

Mac set four mugs of steaming hot chocolate on a tray, and Chloe added a dollop of whipped cream and peppermint to each serving.

“Perfect,” she declared.

When they brought the drinks into the living room, Chloe handed a mug of hot chocolate to Mattie who regarded the whipped cream and peppermint skeptically.

“It’s the only way to drink hot chocolate,” Chloe explained.  “This is how we drink it in Vermont.”

“We’re not in Vermont,” Mattie pointed out, her tone of voice meant more to tease rather than state the obvious.

“We drink hot chocolate in La Jolla, too,” Harm said from the couch, accepting his own mug from Mac with a smile of thanks as she settled down next to him.

“Well, if you were in Vermont where we have real cold and snow, you would drink real hot chocolate, too,” Chloe argued.  “So next time you’re back in the U.S., stop in Vermont and I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”

Mattie’s expression brightened.  “Well, Harm, what do you say to a side trip to Vermont next time?”

Harm hummed thoughtfully.  "We'll see."

Mattie rolled her eyes at Chloe and took a sip of hot chocolate.  “That’s such a parental answer.”

Chloe nodded in agreement.  "Harm and Mac totally have the parental act down.  They’ve been doing it together for years.  Back when I was young and immature, they both had to talk me down from the elevator shaft at JAG.”

“Back when you were young and immature?” Mac repeated with a sharp laugh.  “It wasn’t  _that_  long ago.”

Chloe glared at her big sister in annoyance.

“That just means they’ve had extra practice for when they have their own kids,” Mattie declared, throwing Harm a suggestive smirk.

“Well, I guess we did all right with the two of you,” Harm shot back with a grin.

The girls laughed, but Harm felt Mac tense at the suggestion of children of their own.  It wouldn’t have been noticeable if she hadn’t been sitting next to him, but he could tell she was bothered by a second suggestion after Bill had already mistaken A.J. and Jimmy for their own kids earlier that day.

Harm knew there was only a four percent chance that their own children would ever happen now.  While it was still a chance, it was a slim one.  The thought weighed heavily on him, as it did for Mac, and when he reached for her hand, she gave him a weak smile, grateful for the silent comfort and strength of his hand in hers.


	11. Silent night

_Silent night, holy night_

_All is calm, all is bright_

Late that night, the house had finally grown silent except for the soft padding of Mac’s slippers down the hall.  She found Harm stretched out on the living room couch in the same place she had left him earlier, and she was just going to let him sleep until his warm hand reached out for hers.

“Hey, sailor.”

She gently squeezed his hand, and he pulled her down on the couch next to him.

“I think Chloe and Mattie are finally out for the night,” Mac whispered, settling herself easily into the curve of Harm’s body.  She chuckled softly.  “I didn’t think Chloe would ever stop talking.”

Mac decided she didn’t need to do much more talking either, as Harm’s breath tickled the back of her neck, and for a few minutes, they both lay in silence, enjoying the quiet night and the warmth of each other’s bodies.

“Mac, you hear that?” Harm murmured in her ear.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.”

Mac snuggled closer against his chest, remembering a time when they had been in the same position underneath the stars in the middle of an Afghanistan desert.

_You know, Mac, the temperature’s gonna continue to drop, so if we don’t share body heat, then we’re risking hypothermia._

_You make it sound so inviting._

_You want an invitation?_

_Yes._

_Why don’t you come over here so it’s a little bit better than sleeping with scorpions?_

They hadn’t actually gotten any sleep that night – especially after the explosions had sent them fleeing for cover – but even now, Mac knew that she wouldn’t want to spend a night in the desert with anyone else but Harm.  And tonight, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, Mac decided that sharing body heat with Harm on the couch was much closer to sleeping in heavenly peace.


	12. Breakfast

“Morning, darling.”

Harm startled at the voice behind the counter as he wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing only sweatpants, rubbing a hand over his sleepy eyes just as the late December sunrise peeked over the horizon.  He was surprised to find his mother in a plush terry cloth robe and fuzzy slippers, furiously mixing an enormous bowl of pancake batter.

“Mom?  What are you doing up so early?”

“Thought I’d get a head start on making breakfast,” Trish replied.  “It’s been a long time since Frank and I have had so many guests in the house...we better feed them properly if we want them all to come back."

"Mom, Mac and I are only going to get married once," Harm pointed out.

“Well, that doesn’t mean you all can’t come back again,” Trish insisted.  She shifted the bowl in her arms and started whisking with the other hand.

“Mom, let me help.”

“I’ve got it, darling.”

“Mom.”  Harm gently pried the whisk out of her hands and continued stirring the batter.  “You want to get the milk?”

“Oh, all right.”

Trish had only taken a couple of steps towards the refrigerator when something made her glance back at her son.  He was standing directly in a patch of early morning sunlight, and she couldn’t help but admire him with a sense of pride for the man he had become.  It was at times like this that she was reminded of a Christmas Eve long ago.

~*~o~*~

_“Mom, let me help.”_

_Trish stood at the counter, stirring pancake batter, as Little Harm padded into the kitchen, with bare feet and without a shirt._

_"Darling, please put on a shirt...you'll catch a chill."_

_Harm made a face.  "Mom, I'm fine.  I want to help with the pancakes."_

_“All right, if you insist,” Trish relented, handing the bowl over to her son as he clambered onto a chair.  “Stir firmly but carefully.  You want to get the lumps out but don’t spill batter everywhere.”_

_Just then, there was a knock at the door._

_“Keep stirring, darling,” Trish instructed.  “I’m going to answer the door.”_

_She had no way of knowing that answering the door was about to break her heart._

_"Mrs. Patricia Rabb, the United States Navy regrets to inform you that the aircraft of Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Senior, was shot down over Vietnam on December 24, 1969."_

_The solemn words hit Trish like a violent punch to the stomach.  She covered her mouth with her hand and fought to breathe through a painful stabbing sensation inside her chest.  She was certain that it was her heart breaking.  Her knees buckled beneath her, and she sank into a chair and began to weep._

_Lost in her own grief, her son's worried voice sounded so faint and far away..._

_“Mom?”_

~*~o~*~

“Mom?”

Trish was startled out of her memory by Harm’s voice.  “I’m sorry, darling, what did you say?”

“The milk?”

“Oh.  That’s right.”  Quickly, Trish took the milk out of the refrigerator and brought it to the counter.

“Mom, why are you looking at me like that?”

Trish smiled a little nostalgically and cupped Harm’s face in her hands, framing his handsome features.  “You look so much like him,” she whispered.  She wrapped her arms around her son and closed her eyes as she pulled him into a hug.

After a long moment, Trish raised her head and patted Harm’s bare chest.  “Darling, I'll start the pancakes.  Why don’t you go put on a shirt?”


	13. Peppermint

“Harm?”

Mac had already called his name several times without a reply when she finally found him sitting at the kitchen table, intently studying the papers spread out in front of him.  He was dressed in sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and Mac hid a smile behind her hand as she realized that not everyone got to see the U.S. Navy’s senior European lawyer out of uniform.  His back was to Mac as she entered the room, and she came up behind him and slid her arms around his neck.

“Hi, flyboy.”

“Hey.”  Harm’s right hand reached up to cover hers, and he turned slightly as she leaned down to kiss him.  Mac smiled against his lips, as his mouth was warm and his kiss was gentle, and he tasted like—

“Peppermint,” Mac murmured.

Harm nodded and took another sip from the mug on the table next to his paperwork.  "Mom always keeps a huge stock of peppermint tea in the house around Christmas time.  Help yourself.”

"A few days before our wedding, and you're still working," Mac teased with a roll of her eyes.

“Just going over some files,” Harm answered distractedly.

Seeing his look of concentration and the wrinkles in his forehead, Mac only took a small sip of tea before she put the mug down and moved behind him again to rub his shoulders.  She heard him sigh softly as she ran her fingers over a couple of particularly tight spots.

“Sorry, Mac.  You know how it is.  Tough cases right before the holidays.  No one wants to settle, but no one wants the verdict to drag out past Christmas.”

Harm reached for another file as Mac continued to knead the knots in his back.

"We just had a pilot brought up on charges of manslaughter,” he said quietly.  “There's a lot of evidence that he was drunk when the plane crashed, and the prosecution has a solid case."

Mac’s fingers stilled on his shoulders.  She and Harm had been partners in the courtroom for long enough that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"But you don't believe he's guilty.”  It was a statement rather than a question.

Harm shrugged.  “I didn’t say that.”

Mac narrowed her eyes and moved around to face him.  “Harm, I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The look that says you’re going to try to prove otherwise.”  She threw up her hands.  “This is an aviator thing again, isn’t it?  Harm, if there’s solid evidence that the pilot is responsible for someone’s death—”

“And what if there’s reasonable doubt?” Harm challenged, setting his jaw line firmly and crossing his arms over his chest.

Mac tilted her head and met his gaze with a stubborn stare of her own.  “Is there?”

“You guys aren’t even married yet, and you’re already fighting?” Mattie asked as she breezed through the kitchen, maneuvering easily in her wheelchair.

“We’re not fighting,” Harm and Mac replied in unison.

Mattie shrugged but wasn't able to hide the sassy smirk on her face.  "Could have fooled me." 


	14. Friends

_"You're the man, X-Man!"_

_There was a loud commotion of whooping and whistling coming from within the wardroom of the USS Patrick Henry, and Harm and Skates gave each other a questioning look on their way below deck from their last mission._

_"X-Man got a love letter in this morning’s mail,” Tuna explained as they entered the room.  "And it’s...uh, some pretty heavy stuff, if you know what I mean.”_

_Lieutenant Andrew Buxton, better known as the cocky, hotshot X-Man, was thoroughly enjoying being the center of attention as he showed off a pretty pink slip of paper scented with perfume._

_"'I miss you every day and think about you every night,'" Boomer read in a high-pitched voice.  "Oh, she's definitely hot for you, X-Man."_

_Harm eyed the letter cautiously as it was passed to him, raising an eyebrow at a couple of the more risqué lines._

_"What's wrong, sir?" Buxton asked with a bit of a smug smirk on his face, pleased that he could outrank the lieutenant commander at least in romance.  "No love letters for you?  Not having much luck with the ladies lately?  You need a wingman, Pappy?”_

_“Don’t let him get to you, Harm,” Skates warned._

_Harm fixed Buxton with a cool, silent stare.  “I won’t.”_

~*~o~*~

“Hello, we have a ship-to-shore call for Captain Harmon Rabb, Junior.”

“This is Captain Rabb,” Harm answered.

There was a short burst of static over the phone and then Harm heard a familiar female voice that he had heard in his ear many times before.

“Hello, sir, or should I say Merry Christmas and congratulations?”

“Skates?” Harm exclaimed.

“It’s me, sir."

Harm leaned back in his chair with the phone to his ear, happy to hear from an old friend. “Skates, it’s been a long time.  You still deployed?  How’s carrier life these days?”

“Same as always, sir,” Skates replied.  “It’s married life that’s been an adventure.  I heard you’re about to give it a try.”

Harm chuckled.  “And who told you that?”

“Word gets around, sir.  I just wanted to make sure you actually make it to the wedding this time.”

“What, you didn’t have fun skipping out on the last one with me?” Harm joked.

Skates laughed, but her reply was serious, as the memory of ejecting into the Atlantic on the night before Mac’s failed wedding to Mic Brumby was still vividly clear to both the pilot and his RIO.  "Harm, after we both landed in the drink, I asked if you had taken another look at what was really important to you.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally did.”

She was cut off by another burst of fuzzy static, and Harm wondered if they were going to lose the phone connection.

“Take care of yourself, Skates," he said.  "I’ll let you know how the married life goes.”

“I wouldn’t worry, sir.  You and the Colonel have acted like a married couple for years.”

Harm put a hand to his chest as if he had been struck by an arrow.  “Ouch, Skates.”

“Just speaking the truth, sir,” she said.  “Everyone knew.  The only ones who didn’t were the two of you.”


	15. Travel

_“Harm!”_

_Sarah Rabb peeked inside the open double doors of her grand old barn, even though she doubted Harm could hear her over the roaring engine of the bright yellow Stearman biplane.  She hung on tightly to the doorframe just to steady herself, physically overwhelmed by the rush of air and noise.  After another minute, the engine sputtered as it powered down, and the propeller slowly spun to a stop._

_“Harm!” Sarah called again._

_“Over here, Grandma.”_

_Sarah quickly scanned the barn to find her grandson fiddling with some of the gauges and controls on the other side of the Stearman._

_“She runs,” he said simply._

_“So she does,” Sarah agreed._

_She watched as Harm wiped his greasy hands on a rag and came around the plane, moving with a barely noticeable limp.  He had been rehabbing injuries from his ramp strike for a couple of months now, and while Sarah had seen progress of physical recovery, she wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready to return to the cockpit._

_At first, Harm had refused to restore the old biplane.  He had been bitter, angry, and heartbroken about the death of his RIO and the loss of his naval aviator career.  Sarah had given him space, but she also hadn't failed to drop the occasional hint about the Stearman stored under the tarp in the barn.  She knew that if anything could reawaken her grandson's love for flying, it would be the little plane that had belonged to his father, the man who had instilled that love in the first place._

_Flying was simply ingrained in Harm's genetic makeup, and Sarah knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long.  With a secret smile to herself, she pointed to a spot on the horizon in the distance. “Harm, if you follow the fence line out of the barn and over that hill, there’s a flat meadow that stretches for almost a mile.  It would make the perfect runway, don't you think?”_

_Harm flashed his grandmother a grin, and there was a spark in his eye that Sarah hadn’t seen for a long time._

_“Well, don’t just sit there, boy.  Take her out for a spin.”_

_“It’s Sarah, Grandma,” Harm said, patting the side of the plane.  “Her name is Sarah.”_

~*~o~*~

“Grandma, let me get that for you.”

Sarah Rabb smiled gratefully at her grandson as he swung her duffel bag over his shoulder and took her arm to help her navigate the crowded San Diego airport.  Although she wouldn’t admit it, Sarah was getting up there in age now, and holiday travel from Pennsylvania to California wasn’t the easiest thing for her anymore.

However, with typical Rabb stubbornness, she had insisted on coming to La Jolla for Christmas.

“I’m not going to miss my only grandson’s wedding,” she had said determinedly, “and if that means going to La Jolla for Christmas, then I’m going to La Jolla.”

When she and Harm emerged from the airport terminal, Harm scanned the busy parking lot for a familiar car.  As if on cue, Mac drove up to the curb, and Harm opened the passenger door to help his grandma into the car.

“Sarah Rabb,” he said, flashing his trademark grin that both women knew so well.  “Meet Sarah MacKenzie.”


	16. Mother

_"Deanne!" Joseph MacKenzie's drunken voice hollered loudly from the front door._

_"I'm right here, Joe," Deanne answered quietly. "You don't have to yell."_

_Joe chuckled low in his throat as he stumbled unsteadily into the kitchen. His breath reeked of too much alcohol, and he grabbed onto the counter as he spun around with a confused look on his face._

_"Baby, what—what happened to Christmas dinner?"_

_"Christmas dinner is over, Joe," Deanne explained. "You've been out all night. Sarah and I ate by ourselves."_

_"What are you talking about?" he slurred. He clumsily lunged towards her, and Deanne shrank back._

_"Joseph, you're drunk."_

_"Don't you go telling me what I am, woman," he spat. "That ain't your place in this marriage."_

_Deanne yelped in pain as her husband lashed out and struck her hard on the side of her face._

_"Come on, woman, I'm gonna show you what your place is right now."_

_Neither one of them noticed their eight-year-old daughter peeking out of her bedroom, curious about the commotion. When her father raised his fist again and her mother cried out, Sarah scurried back to bed and buried herself deep under the covers._

_If this is what Christmas is like when you're married, she vowed silently, then I'm never getting married._

~*~o~*~

"Ma'am? Uh…ma'am?"

Bud waved his hand politely in front of Mac's face.

Mac jumped a little and let out an embarrassed laugh as she realized that she had been so wrapped up in her memories that she hadn't heard him. "I'm sorry, Bud." She glanced over at the computer sitting on the dining room table. "Did you find anything?"

Bud shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I looked in every database that we have access to, but I didn't find anything." He tapped a few keys on the computer, and an error message of "unknown name" blinked back at them in bright red letters.

"I looked under MacKenzie and also O'Hara," Bud explained. "There's no listing for your mother anywhere. If we had a more specific location, we might be able to look a little deeper—"

Mac cut him off abruptly. "No, I don't know where she is. I haven't seen her since my father died."

"I'm sorry, Colonel."

"It's okay." Mac was surprised to feel her throat constrict a little bit, but she quickly swallowed her sadness and forced a smile. "Thanks for your help, Bud." Without another word, she rose from her chair and strode out of the room, just missing Harm and Trish as they walked in.

"She okay?" Harm asked, nodding towards Mac's retreating figure.

"I think she's a little sad, sir," Bud admitted. "She asked me to look for her mother. She didn't come out and say it, but I think she wanted to invite her to the wedding. But we couldn't find any mention of her mother's name or an address or anything else about her."

Harm took a step forward, intending to follow Mac and offer his comfort, but his mother stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Why don't you let me, darling?"


	17. Gift

Trish found Mac in her guest room, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands folded in her lap.  She appeared to be staring out the window into the distance, but her expression was sad and her eyes were a bit watery.

“Hi,” Trish said quietly, easing herself down on the bed beside her.

Mac quickly wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.  “I’m—I’m sorry, Trish.  I’m not usually like this.  I’m a United States Marine, and here I am crying because my mother isn’t going to make it to my wedding."

"I'm sorry, Mac," Trish said sympathetically.  "I don't understand why any mother would want to miss their daughter's wedding."

"I haven't even seen her in years," Mac continued bitterly.  "I don't know why I thought this time would be any different."

"You don't have to justify it, darling."  Trish wrapped an arm around Mac's shoulders and felt her heave a defeated sigh.  "Mac, I've been waiting for the right moment to give you something," she said gently. “I realize that it’s not a replacement for your mother, but it's something that my mother gave to me when I got married, and I wanted you to have it now."

She slid a small, decorative, jewel-encrusted box into Mac's open palm, and with wide eyes and shaky hands, Mac lifted the lid to find an exquisite necklace sitting on a bed of blue velvet.  She sucked in her breath as she recognized the naval emblem of an anchor, shield, and wings dangling from a gold chain.

“You’re marrying a naval aviator,” Trish explained, gazing at Mac fondly.  “Just as I did.  I’ve always been very proud to call Harm my son.  And now I’m very proud to call you my daughter-in-law.”

Mac didn’t know what to say for a minute.  She blinked uncertainly, almost as if she were trying to process the meaning of Trish's words.  “I guess no one has ever called me a daughter before,” she finally admitted.  “I never really had a mother.  Didn’t have much of a father either.  Harm’s always been so lucky to have you.”

“And he’s worried about you,” Trish said.  “He just wants to make sure that everything about this wedding is perfect for you.”

“Well, Harm always did want to be Superman,” Mac muttered.

“He got that from his father,” Trish assured her, and the two women shared a laugh that only a mother and daughter could understand.


	18. Gold

“Charlotte, I didn’t know you were still working here!”

The plump, gray-haired saleswoman looked up from her work as the bell over the store entrance jingled and two familiar faces stepped into the jewelry shop.

“Trish, Frank!  How are you?”  Charlotte removed her glasses and carefully put down the bracelet she was restringing, making her way over to the counter to greet her customers.  “So good to see you.  I only work part-time now, but you can almost always find me here making jewelry.”

Charlotte gave Frank a wink.  “Are we shopping for something special?”

Frank glanced over at his wife fondly.  “Well, if Trish sees something she likes…”

Trish waved him off with a laugh.  “Oh, no, not for me today, Charlotte.  We’re here to pick up the Rabb wedding rings.”

“Of course.”  Charlotte opened one of the drawers at the counter and shuffled through the pending orders.  “Who’s getting married?” she asked.

“My son.”

“Little Harm?” Charlotte exclaimed, her voice rising into an incredulous squeal of delight.

“Well…” Trish drawled out the word, casting her eyes downward in mock shame.  “I’m afraid he grew up, and he’s not so little anymore.”

Charlotte laughed.  “Kids tend to do that.  Before you know it, they’re a foot taller than you are and running off somewhere doing their own thing.”

“Or they’re the spitting image of their father and still playing with toy airplanes,” Trish joked.

“So Little Harm became a fighter pilot like his dad,” Charlotte mused, finally locating the order she was looking for.  She lifted the black box out of the drawer and laid it on the counter, opening the top to display two gold wedding rings.

Frank nodded his approval, and Trish let out a little gasp.

“They’re beautiful, Charlotte.”

“I’ll get them packed up for you right away,” Charlotte said, snapping the box closed with a flourish and reaching for a bag.  She shook her head in disbelief.  “I can’t believe Little Harm is getting married.  Is his bride a pilot, too?”

Trish and Frank both shared an amused smile at the thought.

“Well, she’s not a pilot,” Trish replied, “but I do believe she would fly with him anywhere.”


	19. Shopping

"Thanks for taking me shopping," Mattie said brightly, as Mac pushed the wheelchair down the center aisle of the mall. "I haven't had time to buy anything for Harm for Christmas. Mrs. Johnson is really nice, but she hates shopping." Mattie rolled her eyes and lowered her voice as if to tell Mac a secret. "She's a little old-fashioned, if you know what I mean."

Mrs. Johnson was the kind, retired neighbor who helped take care of Mattie after school and when Harm was traveling. Mac knew that both Harm and Mattie liked her a lot, but Mac couldn't imagine the elderly woman having a lot of extra energy to go shopping with a teenager.

"And I can't go shopping _for_ Harm _with_ Harm." Mattie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What do you get the Force Judge Advocate of Naval Forces Europe for Christmas anyway?"

Mac laughed at the expression on Mattie's face as she recited Harm's official title. "Well, maybe you should try getting something for his non-lawyer side," she suggested.

"You mean like his pilot side?" Mattie asked doubtfully.

"Something like that."

"Mac, wait, stop!" Mattie suddenly twisted around in her wheelchair. "Look, in the window. Come on."

All of the stores in the mall were beautifully decorated for the season, with trees and lights and large holiday sale signs. But there was a tiny item in one of the Christmas displays that just happened to catch Mattie's eye, and it only took a few minutes for the cashier to ring up her purchase for a small Christmas ornament in the shape of a biplane.

"Number One Dad," Mac read the inscription on the side of the plane. "Well, I think Harm would be honored."

"It's for his dad side," Mattie confirmed as the cashier handed her the bag and wished them both happy holidays.

"Harm misses you a lot, you know," Mattie said casually as Mac wheeled her out of the store.

"Well, I miss him, too," Mac said a little more wistfully than she had intended.

"He's an awesome dad, and London's great, and I know he's really good at his job, but sometimes he seems lonely, you know?"

"Sometimes the military life just works out that way," Mac explained quietly. She understood the feeling well, as she often felt the same, being almost six thousand miles away from him in San Diego.

"Well, I bet that would cheer him up," Mattie said suddenly. "Maybe you should bring that on the honeymoon?"

Mac's gaze followed Mattie's pointed finger to another one of the shops, and she immediately blushed almost as red as the sexy lingerie in the window.


	20. Pride

_"Stand up straight, darling," Trish reprimanded her son, tugging on the lapels of his tuxedo._

_But Harm didn't feel like anything could lift the heavy sadness weighing on his shoulders that day. His mother's wedding to her second husband was a grand event, in a beautiful old church with stained glass windows and a cathedral ceiling, along with an extensive guest list and a reception menu that must have cost a small fortune. But there were no pilots, no planes, no military uniforms – and to Harm, no point._

_"How could you forget Dad?" Harm hissed at his mother, his voice laced with hurt and anger._

_"Harmon Rabb, Junior," Trish said sternly. "I loved your father more than you could ever understand. But I'm marrying Frank today, and that's final."_

_Harm recoiled as if he had been shocked. How could his mother no longer feel that pain? Harm wondered if maybe she didn't love Harmon Rabb, Senior, as deeply as she said she did. The loss of his father had permanently crushed a piece of his heart, and that pain wasn't something he ever wanted to feel again._

_And so the young Harmon Rabb, Junior, started building impenetrable iron walls around his heart so that he wouldn't ever love enough to feel the hurt of losing anyone ever again._

~*~o~*~

"Need some help with that?"

"I got it, Frank," Harm called from atop the ladder, his voice muffled by the extra nails he was holding between his teeth while he used both hands to hammer them one at a time into the top of the trellis. "Just a couple more."

Once all the nails were in, Harm made his way down to where Frank was waiting for him on the ground.

"Looks good, Harm."

Harm dropped the extra nails and the hammer into the toolbox and took a step back to inspect the majestic wooden arch that he would soon be married under. "Well, now it won't fall over when Mac puts the roses up tomorrow."

"Getting nervous about the wedding?" Frank asked.

"No," Harm said with surprising confidence. "It just…feels right."

Frank chuckled. "I was a complete wreck when I married your mom. I had so many doubts that she didn't really love me, and that I wasn't good enough for her, and that her son would always hate me."

Harm looked away a little ashamedly as Frank laughed.

"But I love your mom, Harm."

"I know you do, Frank."

"Believe me when I say that I'm glad you don't have the same doubts that I did." Frank laid a hand on Harm's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Harm. And your father would be proud of you, too."


	21. Honor

_Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb.  Major Sarah MacKenzie._

_Don't get too familiar.  You're gonna work together._

"This is going to be absolutely beautiful," Harriet gushed, twisting another long string of roses around the base of the wedding arch.  She and Mattie were clipping the stems at the bottom while Chloe and Mac both stood on ladders, weaving the flowers in a decorative pattern at the top.  The roses, the baby's breath, and the thick green leaves were the perfect accent to the pretty knotted wood.

Mac smiled as she heard Harriet's compliment, feeling another little thrill of anticipation for her wedding.  It was entirely fitting for two people who had met in a rose garden to be married under a trellis of white roses. 

“Mac, there’s someone at the door for you,” Frank called from inside the house.

Puzzled as to who it could be, Mac climbed down from the ladder and left the other women on the patio while she made her way inside.

When she opened the door, she couldn’t contain an audible gasp of surprise.

“Admiral!”

He was a little older and a little grayer, but the commanding figure of Admiral A.J. Chegwidden was unmistakable.

“Colonel.”

It took a moment for Mac to recover her voice.  “We...uh, haven’t seen you since your retirement, sir."

“Well, I’ve been very busy with...well, you know, retirement things."

“Of course...um, won’t you come in?” Mac still felt a little dazed as she stepped back from the door and allowed him to enter.

The admiral nodded politely as he entered the house and clasped his hands behind his back, as if he were preparing to make a speech that he wasn't quite ready for.

“This is a lovely home,” he said.

“Sir?” Mac asked, recognizing the way he was stalling.

A.J. took a deep breath.  “Colonel, I recently received a phone call from a very persuasive petty officer who told me that you and Captain Rabb were getting married on Christmas Eve.  I believe she said something along the lines of 'Admiral, it just wouldn't be the same without you.'"  He hesitated for a moment and then continued on determinedly.  "Mac,” he said, addressing her more informally now. “You once asked me to walk you down the aisle for your wedding, and at the time, I had doubts that I might be giving you away to the wrong man.”

Mac flinched visibly.

“Obviously you did, too,” A.J. said without missing a beat.  “Colonel, I no longer have those doubts, and if you agree, I’d still like to be the one to walk you down the aisle.”

A.J. Chegwidden was a former Navy SEAL who was highly practiced at cold, emotionless facial expressions, but Mac could have sworn she saw a hopeful light in his eyes.

His words hung in the air for a long moment, and then slowly, Mac breathed out and a smile spread across her face.  "I'd be honored, Admiral.  Petty Officer Coates is right...it just wouldn’t be the same without you.”


	22. Drink

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_Let your heart be light_  
 _From now on, your troubles will be out of sight_

It was still early evening, but the lights in the bar had already been dimmed to accentuate the holiday atmosphere. While red and green Christmas lights flickered in festive patterns across the stage, one of the in-house singers crooned a soft, jazzy version of some well-known Christmas carols, accompanied by a piano and a bass. The place wasn't crowded, and Bud and Harm easily found two seats at the bar.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"I'll have a draft beer," Harm said.

"Same here," Bud echoed.

"Coming right up."

"I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to throw you a real bachelor's party, sir," Bud apologized. "Things have been so hectic lately, especially with Harriet and the kids."

"It's all right, Bud." Harm clapped his friend on the back with a grin. "Wouldn't have wanted it to end up like yours anyway."

Bud groaned at the memory. The night before his wedding had been a complete nightmare, going from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. Although Bud had initial concerns about his father throwing him a bachelor's party at a strip club, he never would have thought it would end up with Mac bailing him, Harm, and Admiral Chegwidden out of jail.

Despite the utter horror and embarrassment of that night, Bud couldn't help but chuckle a little now.

"Well, sir, I guess we're a little older and wiser now."

Harm raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe just a little older," Bud conceded.

"Here you go, gentlemen."

The bartender set down two frothy glasses of beer in front of them.

"It's been some ride over the years, hasn't it, Bud?" Harm asked, thoughtfully tracing circles on the rim of his glass.

"It has, sir," Bud agreed. "Sometimes I wonder if Admiral Chegwidden knew what he was doing when he first partnered you and the Colonel."

"Bud—"

"I mean, I'm not sure if then-Major MacKenzie was all that fond of you at first, sir. And then she left JAG and came back and then you both almost died in Russia. And then _you_ left JAG and came back and you both almost died in Russia again. And then you almost drowned—"

"Bud—"

"And then you got arrested and she left on that CIA mission and you resigned your commission to go after her—"

"Bud!" Harm snapped. He wasn't sure if there was a point to this recap of his and Mac's rather unusual service records.

"But I never lost faith in you and the Colonel, sir," Bud said adamantly. "No matter where you were, somehow you always came back to each other. I think that can only mean that you're destined to be together, and I couldn't be happier that the two of you are finally getting married."

Bud raised his glass in a toast, and Harm smiled and clinked his glass against his friend's.

"Congratulations, sir."


	23. Father

_Evening, Trish. It's a beautiful night here on the South China Sea. Well, that's only if you like to call hot and muggy beautiful. But we're still celebrating tonight. One of the other pilots, Mouse – that's his call sign because he's as quiet as a mouse – proposed to his girlfriend in a letter, and she finally wrote back and accepted. She says she'll have everything ready for the wedding when he gets home, and now quiet little Mouse can't stop talking about anything else. It makes me proud to be your husband, Trish. I love you, and I'll be home soon. Give Little Harm a hug and tell him that someday he'll feel the same way about a girl – and when he finally gets up the nerve to ask her to marry him, I'm going to be the proudest father ever, no matter where I am._

Harm paused the tape player, interrupting his father's recorded voice as he stopped along the beach to take a deep breath of salty ocean air. Although he wouldn't make it to the Vietnam Memorial on Christmas Eve this year, he felt the same connection to his father near the ocean tonight. It reminded him of the carrier life that he and his father had both led, with the mixed scent of saltwater and jet fuel always heavy in the air.

_Thanks, Dad_ , he thought, settling down on the sand and listening to the surf crash rhythmically against the shore.

It had taken nine years. Nine years of dancing around a relationship with Mac, and tomorrow he was finally going to make her his wife. The cool breeze coming off the ocean whipped past his face, and Harm could hear soft footsteps in the sand behind him.

"How'd you find me?" he asked without turning around.

"Your mom said you went for a walk with your dad." Mac lowered herself onto the sand next to him and slipped her hand into his. "I thought you might be out here."

And as twilight faded into nightfall, two soulmates sat quietly on the beach, poised on the edge of the ocean – and the rest of their lives together.


	24. Love

_What are you proposing?  And that’s not a Freudian slip._

_I’m proposing…let’s get married._

Mac couldn’t say that it had been the most traditional proposal, but it had been the one she had been waiting for all along. No other man had ever held her heart the way Harm did. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing the white lace of her wedding dress and looking back at a woman who finally saw something of value in her life.  She was a Marine and a lawyer – and now she was going to be a wife.

“Colonel?”

Mac looked up to find Admiral Chegwidden standing in the doorway.

“I’m ready, sir,” she said confidently.

A.J. offered his arm with a smile, and the two of them made their way out to the patio where the small group of guests fell silent at the regal sight of a Navy admiral in dress whites and a bride in a long, white satin gown.

Trish was already teary-eyed, and Frank squeezed her hand in comfort.  Sarah Rabb stood beside them, wearing a calm expression filled with pride.  Chloe, Mattie, and Jen were all smiles, keeping watch over a stroller with the twins and holding the hands of A.J. and Jimmy as the boys bounced excitedly, looking very grown up in their little suits and bow ties.  Bud and Harriet stood near the minister, both of them beaming, Harriet holding a bouquet of white roses and Bud clutching a black velvet box tightly in his hand.

And waiting for Mac at the end of the aisle, standing beneath a rose-covered wedding arch, was a handsome Navy captain in dress whites and gold wings.

~*~o~*~

Their wedding ceremony was short but heartfelt, surrounded by their closest friends and family under unusually bright December sunshine with ocean waves lapping at the shore.

When Bud handed the rings to the groom, Harm reached for Mac to place a gold band on her left hand, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen.  It was a look reserved only for her, filled with the intensity of a fighter pilot, the eloquence of a lawyer, and the love of a man.

“I, Harmon Rabb, Junior, take you, Sarah MacKenzie, as my wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, to carry on gold wings wherever we may go, in the air, on land, and to the depths of the sea, in sickness and in health, my partner, my best friend, my love, for all of eternity.”

Mac could barely breathe as she listened to Harm’s wedding vows.  A lump formed in her throat as her eyes grew moist, and a few happy tears escaped her lashes, only to be brushed away by Harm’s gentle fingers as he had done so many times before.

“I, Sarah MacKenzie,” she began in a whisper, “take you, Harmon Rabb, Junior, as my husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, to stand by your side wherever we may go, to the ends of the earth and to the edge of the heavens, in sickness and in health, my partner, my best friend, my love, for all of eternity.”

The minister smiled warmly at both of them.  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”


	25. Christmas morning

_Mac, you have someone who will always love you._

_And you have somebody that loves you._

After Harm and Mac had shared their first kiss as husband and wife much to the delight of their family and friends, Trish and Frank had treated them all to a catered Christmas feast of roasted meats, breads, sauces, fruits and vegetables, stuffings and casseroles, and a magnificent wedding cake with ivory white frosting. The house was filled with plenty of food and conversation, laughter, antics from the children, and old memories and good times.

As the hour started getting late, and Bud and Harriet assured their children that Santa Claus would find them even in La Jolla, Sarah Rabb offered her grandson and his new bride an unexpected Christmas gift.

She surprised them with a suite at one of the most luxurious hotels in San Diego for their wedding night, and both Harm and Mac had been stunned. Harm had tried to talk his grandmother out of it, and Mac had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Sarah would have none of it.

~*~o~*~

And so on Christmas morning, Mac discovered that there was nothing more glorious than waking up in a soft, heavenly bed, wrapped in the arms of her husband.

 _Her husband_.

Mac smiled in spite of herself. She would have to repeat it over and over again. Stretching lazily, she twisted the gold band around her left ring finger, unaware that she let out a sigh of contentment that woke the man next to her.

"Hello, wife." Harm's voice was low and rough with sleep as he exhaled deeply and tightened his arms around her.

"Hello, husband."

The words rolled easily off her tongue, but Mac's features betrayed her uncertainty. "I'm almost afraid it's not real."

Her gaze lowered, intently studying her wedding ring again, and Harm took the opportunity to lean over and fuse his mouth to hers in a warm, tender kiss.

"Feels real to me," he murmured, his breath on her cheek making all of her nerves tingle inside again.

Harm sank back into the pillows, closing his eyes with a content sigh of his own, and Mac snuggled against him as his fingers glided lightly across her bare skin and he spoke to her in the faintest of whispers.

"Sarah…my love."

He had breathed the same words in her ear as he had taken her over the edge of pleasure last night, and Mac felt a flush of warmth spread through her body just hearing them again. She had never known what it meant to be loved so completely before, so how could she possibly know if it felt real?

_Do you believe in fate?_

_Well, it put us together…sort of._

_Fate could keep us together forever._

They had left their relationship to fate for nine years, and their love had finally defied it in the end – because somehow she had still ended up here with him.

 _It feels right_ , Mac decided.

She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, and her heart began to race when she found herself on her back beneath him again. With their bodies tangled together intimately under the sheets, Harm's mouth covered hers, kissing her slowly, deeply…and lovingly.

"Merry Christmas, Harm," she whispered, touching her fingertips to his cheek and melting into his kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Mac."


End file.
